Initial Interface
by kgmohror
Summary: Set before the events of Tron (1982), this is one imagining of how Tron/Yori and Alan/Lora came to be.
1. Chapter 1

_**Initial Interface**_

_As a fan of the original Tron film, I always wondered how Alan and Lora (and Tron and Yori) got together after Lora's break up with Flynn. Here is how I envisioned it. Usual disclaimers apply._

The employee cafeteria was characteristically bustling this Tuesday, but as far as Alan Bradley was concerned, there were only two people present: himself and, separated from him by a seemingly vast expanse of tables, Lora Baines. She looked serious as she paged through what looked to be a technical manual while she picked at her salad. Serious … but not as sad as she had looked for a long time after whatever happened between her and Flynn went down.

Alan frowned a bit as he stabbed at his mound of mashed potatoes. He hadn't known Kevin Flynn well; as a more junior programmer at ENCOM, Alan hadn't moved in the exalted circles that Flynn dominated. Sure, the man was brilliant – but he was reckless. A corner-cutting kind of guy, quick with the Big Ideas, but impatient. Alan couldn't even imagine Flynn fretting over countless iterations of code, methodically seeking the smallest bugs, the most obscure bits of language that would make a program faster, more efficient, most stable. A program like Alan's Tron.

The young programmer smiled softly to himself as he thought of his creation – and that's how he thought of Tron. After months of writing, testing, debugging and more writing, the program was still a work in progress. But Alan knew he was getting close. A dedicated, yet independent security program that could ward off attacks from outside systems, neutralize bugs within its own system and prevent malicious viruses from infiltrating and damaging the other important programs the resided on the Encom network.

Lora Baines was working on such a program, something called Yori. Alan didn't know much about it, only what he'd picked up through the grapevine. Some kind of simulations administrator, he gathered. Whatever it was, coming out of the high security R&D digitization unit, it was certainly going to be cutting edge – perhaps even revolutionary. Alan wasn't surprised; Lora was as brilliant an engineer as he'd ever seen.

He lifted his gaze from his plastic tray to look at her again, watched her idly brush a strand of golden hair behind one ear as she concentrated on the text before her. So beautiful. They'd started at ENCOM at roughly the same time, fresh out of their respective universities. The alphabetical proximity of their surnames – Baines and Bradley – had meant they were often assigned to the same cohorts for training seminars, especially early in their careers at ENCOM. Even in those early days, Lora had stood out from the crowd. She was quiet, serious … yet with an inner energy that radiated from her and brightened every room she occupied. Her brilliance and creativity had quickly attracted the attention of Walter Gibbs, who claimed her for his digitization project.

Inevitably, she had also been noticed by Kevin Flynn, whose good looks and charismatic charm gave him his effortless pick of women. Though Alan might have wished someone as extraordinary as Lora Baines would be immune to such flash, she was not. They were together the better part of a year, as far as Alan could tell from his vantage point far from the glittering movers and shakers at the company.

Alan wasn't really sorry to be among the largely anonymous masses of engineers and programmers who toiled in identical cubicles in the bowels of ENCOM. Company politics and schmoozing weren't his cup of tea. So okay, maybe he wasn't exactly exciting – he suspected his coworkers would describe him as steady, meticulous, methodical … possibly even plodding. But what was wrong with that? Alan was proud of the work he'd done at ENCOM. He'd developed several critical programs and had been working his way steadily, if not spectacularly, up the security clearance tiers and payscale. He fully expected Tron to cement his position as one of the company's most valuable – dare he say talented – coders. Alan believed it was better, in the end, to glow with a steady, reliable light than flare like a skyrocket. Roman candles had a tendency to burn out quickly, after all. Sometimes they even exploded.

A little like Flynn's career at ENCOM. Alan had no idea what ultimately caused Flynn's spectacular fall from grace. There were rumors of use of company resources for personal gain. Whatever. The bottom line was, shortly after Ed Dillinger's promotion to executive vice president, Kevin Flynn was out of a job. Alan heard he was running some rinky-dink arcade downtown now. Making money hand over fist, but still. Flynn's relationship with Lora seemed to have lasted a while after he left the company, but eventually that fizzled, too.

It hurt Alan to see the vibrancy, the humming energy that previously infused her slim form, replaced by a kind of flatness. She had thrown herself into her work, evidently; at least, the output from the digitization lab over the past six months had been remarkable, culminating with the Yori program. And gradually, over the past couple of months, it seemed like Lora was emerging from her funk. Alan had observed her heart-stopping smile appear more often as she greeted colleagues in staff meetings or conferred with Gibbs over mugs of coffee in the snack bar. Alan was happy to see Lora coming back and, irrationally, gave himself just a kernel of credit for that. True, he hadn't had any direct contact with Lora to offer her comfort and support. But from his distance across the cafeteria, he had been watching, hoping, WILLING her heart to heal.

At that moment Lora lifted her head and looked straight at Alan. He saw her eyes widen slightly to find him watching her, and the trace of a smile – bemusement, he thought – appeared on her lovely face. Mortified, Alan ducked his head, snatched up his tray, and fled.


	2. Initial Interface-Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Gazing around the gleaming digitization module, Yori nodded with satisfaction. Things were humming along nicely, with Simulation Programs quietly testing subroutines at workstations around the margins of the circular space. The petite Administration Program wasn't exactly sure what would happen when all strings of digitization code were finalized and compiled, but she knew they were on the threshold of something very important. Yori was not a prideful Program, but she felt gratification at the progress her team had made under her direction, and she felt sure her User Lora was pleased.

To be honest, Yori had occasionally chafed at the slow pace of the work until the recent burst of activity. The ways of the Users were inscrutable, and it wasn't a Program's place to question them ... but Yori was an energetic, curious Program who preferred to be fully engaged in some useful task. Happily, Lora had recently been throwing her as much data as Yori could handle. Even Dumont had remarked on the uptick in activity.

A low tittering attracted Yori's attention, and she turned to see two junior Programs with heads bent together, giggling. Yori frowned. She was no despot, but she expected her subordinates to keep their minds on business. She walked quietly up behind them. "Something buggy in the code, Programs?"

The young females jumped and looked appropriately chastened.

"I'm sorry, Yori," said Nev, the bolder of the two. "I guess we were distracted by our visitor." She inclined her head in the direction of the portal. Yori turned and observed a tall, lean figure just inside the doorway, surveying the scene with a firm, serious gaze.

Yori had heard about the new Security Program who had been making the rounds on the Grid, but she had no idea what he would want here. She allowed her eyes to trace his form. He seemed somehow more solid, more substantial than most of the Programs she knew. Yori couldn't help admiring the sleek lines, the admirable symmetry of his circuitry. That was some well-crafted coding, she thought, smiling slightly. The Security Program's blue glow was steady and strong, but not garish as some of the Programs in the entertainment sector were these days. Yori had heard younger Programs in the lab lamenting their pale coloration, wishing for the flashy neon that was now all the rage. But Yori preferred her own muted shades, which denoted maturity and responsibility. She saw the same in this stranger.

He was moving now, his long, graceful strides covering large expanses of the Grid beneath their feet as he followed the perimeter of the room. Yori saw him pause to look over the shoulder of a Diagnostic Program, and her admiration was immediately replaced by irritation. Really, what business did he have here? She drew herself up to her full height – which, admittedly, wasn't much – and walked briskly to confront him.

Still engrossed in the activity of the Diagnostic Program, he didn't hear Yori's approach.

"May I help you?" she asked in her firmest voice.

He jumped slightly and swung around to face her. The startled look on his perfectly symmetrical face, so at odds with his imposing appearance, nearly made Yori laugh out loud. Instead, she placed her hands on her slim hips and looked up at him. "Is there something you needed, Program?"

He stood blinking down at her a moment, eyes wide, and Yori saw a faint ripple of rosy light flow over his circuitry. Previously planted solid and stalwart, he now shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Uh … hem," he stammered, "Greetings, Program." His voice was deep, with a slight, gravelly buzz that Yori found very alluring.

"You are a Security Program," she noted.

His circuitry flushed again. "Er, yes. My name is Tron. I am a Security Program."

Yori couldn't suppress a small grin. She was getting the distinct impression that this mighty Security Program was a little … shy! She saw his brows knit at her mirth, and she was instantly sorry for embarrassing him. It was never a good idea to get on the wrong side of someone with his clout.

"I'm Yori, administrator of this module," she said, extending a hand. Tron looked down at it as if he'd never seen such a thing before. Then, uncertainly, he extended his own. His large hand enveloped her small one completely, his long, slender fingers curling fully around her hand so that his fingers rested lightly on her palm. They were warm, and Yori felt the hum of power in his circuits. He was strong, this Program. But surprisingly gentle. Yori withdrew her hand a little reluctantly.

"Might I ask what brings you here?" she asked, making her voice coolly professional. "I can assure you there are no security breaches in this module. We are very careful about the integrity of our data."

"I'm sure that's true," he answered. He seemed a bit steadier now, on firmer footing as he shifted into work mode. "However, my User has directed me to inspect all modules on the Grid for potential vulnerabilities. Especially this one."

Yori felt a pulse of indignation. "Especially this one? And why is that, might I ask?" Her circuitry glowed an icier shade of blue.

"My User does not share the reasons for his commands," Tron answered, his own voice chilling a bit at her tone. "I was told to keep an especially close eye on this module, and that's what I intend to do."

"Just who is your User, Security Program?" Yori sputtered, indicating her contempt for him by addressing him by function, not designation.

"My User is Alan-One," he said reverently. "He is a User of especial importance."

"Never heard of him," Yori said tersely. "But I will be sure to inform MY User, Lora, about your User's _especial interest_ in her work."

"Your interaction with your User is your own business," he replied stiffly. "As is mine. Now I have some additional inspections to make in the Accounting Sector. If you'll excuse me." He turned on his heel and walked – or rather stomped – toward the portal. "Until next time, Administrator. I expect we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

Yori watched him activate the portal and disappear through it. "Not if I have anything to say about it," she muttered, her delicate featured fixed in a scowl.


	3. Initial Interface-Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Alan leaned back in his desk chair, arms crossed behind his head, and stared up at the sign hanging on the wall of his cubicle: "Gort Klaatu Barada Nikto." He used the sign like a mantra when he was trying to focus on some deep problem. At the moment, that was an unexpected glitch – more of a hiccup, really – that he'd observed in Tron this morning while running a security scan of the bundle of programs in the digitization lab. For a microsecond, his program had appeared to … well, shiver was about the only word he could come up with to describe it. But Alan had scrutinized the code until his eyes ached, and couldn't find a bug. Huh.

Stymied, Alan closed his eyes and let his mind wander to more pleasant themes – specifically, a certain blonde engineer with milky skin and clear, blue eyes, not to mention a body that …

"Hey!"

Alan lurched forward in his chair at the sharp, vaguely familiar voice. He swiveled to see the object of his fantasies standing at the entrance to his cubicle. Except in his fantasies, she never looked this … pissed off.

Lora Baines pushed her glasses further up her nose and glared at the startled programmer. She had a piece of paper in her hand, and she waved it in his direction. "What hell is this," she squinted briefly at his name badge. "Bradley?"

"Alan."

Her scowl deepened. "Huh?"

Alan cleared his throat, feeling withered beneath her hostile gaze. "My first name is Alan. Bradley is my last name." He flinched inwardly. She didn't even know his name!

"Well, whatever your name is, I want to know where you get off snooping around my program?" She thrust the paper at him.

Alan took it from her fingers. "Oh, this. It's my report to Vice President Dillinger on potential security gaps in the ENCOM network." He looked back at his interrogator. "Is there a problem?"

"You better believe there's a problem. As if Dillinger weren't already nosy enough, sniffing around the digitization program and trying to put it under the control of that stupid Master Control Program he's developing."

Alan snorted derisively. "MCP? Glorified chess program. You were writing more sophisticated code in kindergarten."

Her eyes softened a bit at that. "Be that as it may, I don't like uninvited programs sneaking around, glitching up my code."

Alan's eyebrows lifted. "Glitchy? That shouldn't happen. Tron is designed to interact with other programs without interfering with their code or functionality."

She shrugged. "Maybe, but something happened to my Yori when your program interfaced. It was subtle, like a …" she trailed off, searching for a descriptor.

"-shiver?" Alan supplied.

She nodded and – wonder of wonders – smiled at him. "Yeah. That's a good word for it."

Alan was so tickled by her response that he couldn't help grinning back at her. Wrong move. Her face immediately regained its stern expression. "Look, this isn't funny. I've put thousands of hours into that program, and just when I'm on the verge of a breakthrough-"

"You've succeeded in digitizing solid matter?" Alan interrupted, impressed.

"Not quite. But I'm close, really close." She sighed. Evidently she was struggling to maintain her resentment in the face of his obvious admiration. She gestured toward the paper still in his hand. "So how come you flagged Yori as a vulnerable program?"

"Because it is," he said simply. As she opened her mouth to protest, he held up his free hand. "Obviously, the programs you're developing are some of the most important – probably THE most important – in the company. If successful-"

"WHEN successful."

He grinned again. "_When_ successful, your digitization process is going change … well, everything. Do you know what that's going to be worth to ENCOM? And how much our competitors would love to appropriate that platinum mine for themselves?"

She arched a brow skeptically. "You really think Yori is in danger from evil outside forces? Aliens, maybe?" He saw her gaze flicker to Gort Klaatu Barada Nikto, and he felt his gut clench. Why didn't he just wear a sign around his neck: #1 Geek. Still, he knew he was right.

"Make jokes if you want, but I'm serious. Tron has detected and neutralized three external threats in the last 10 days. They're out there."

"So if your Tron program is so invincible, Yori's got nothing to worry about, right?"

Alan pursed his lips and shook his head. She was being deliberately obtuse now. "You know as well as I do that any network is only as strong as its weakest code."

"You're saying my code is weak?"

"I'm saying it could be better."

Lora's eyes flashed fire. "Listen. You worry about your code, and I'll worry about mine, okay? Just keep your Tron away from my Yori. I don't want it infecting my program with some kind of virus." With that she turned on her heel and stalked out. Alan watched her go, hearing his romantic dreams fade with every click of her heels.


	4. Initial Interface-Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Yori rolled her head from side to side, seeking to unkink circuitry strained by running endless simulations. It would be good to get home and into an energy soak. Stepping through the portal, Yori immediately spotted him. Tron. He stood on the margin between the module's gridspace and the open Grid beyond. His back was ramrod straight and his head moved back and forth as his sharp eyes scanned the landscape for threats. Tron hadn't been back inside the Digitization Module since that first time, but Yori had often seen him patrolling outside. She'd been tempted, once or twice, to bring him a mug of energy, but resisted the impulse. It was best not to become too familiar with these military types. Still … she had to walk right past him to get to her transport. It would be rude to ignore him altogether.

"Greetings, Tron."

His head swung in her direction, and to her astonishment, his face erupted in a broad smile. "Greetings, Yori," he said.

She paused beside him, noting how very tall, how really strong he looked next to her small form. Her eyes were level with his broad shoulders, and she was acutely aware of the breadth of his chest, the softly glowing T in its center enticing her fingers to trace its contours.

"You must get tired, patrolling the whole Grid," she said conversationally.

Tron clasped his hands behind his back and stood a bit straighter. "It's not so bad," he said. "I love my job."

"You do?" It was hard for Yori to imagine how tracing endless repetitive cycles over the Grid could be rewarding.

He nodded, his gaze scanning the vast Grid that stretched away into the distance. "My work is important. I serve the Users. I protect the Programs." He glanced down at her, his eyes unexpectedly warm. Then he returned his focus to the landscape around him.

"Do you really believe the Grid is in danger?" Yori asked softly.

He nodded. "Yes. I do believe. I _know_. Alan-One told me."

Yori wondered what it was like to be so devout. Of course she honored Lora, but had never felt the kind of connection, almost intimacy, that Tron seemed to have with his User. He was strange, this Program. Lora's transport pulled to a stop in front of them. "Goodnight, Tron," she said quietly as the transport's portal opened.

"Goodnight, Yori."

As the transport pulled away, Yori watched the Security Program fade in the distance. He was still standing tall, scanning the horizon.


	5. Initial Interface-Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Alan's brain was cluttered with a long day's worth of code as he waited for the elevator that would deliver him to ENCOM's vast parking level. His stomach growled, and he weighed the relative appeal of take-out Chinese versus pizza delivery. Man does not live on popcorn alone, he thought wryly. Just as he was about to give the elevator a good, swift kick (he had a vague notion the machine only responded to punitive measures), the call button pinged and the door hissed open. Not surprisingly, the car was empty at this late hour; few ENCOM employees put in more overtime than Alan Bradley. He stepped inside.

"Alan! Alan Bradley!"

The programmer thrust out a hand to stop the door from closing and peered out of the elevator. Lora Baines was hurrying down the corridor toward him as fast as a slim skirt and treacherous heels would allow. Alan could only raise his brows appreciatively at her enticing silhouette; she'd shed her lab coat to reveal a short, tweedy pencil skirt and soft, brown sweater. She smiled and waved a hand to indicate Alan should hold the elevator for her. He did.

"Thanks!" Lora gasped as she stepped into the car. "I knew if I missed this one, I'd be waiting another 10 minutes."

Alan nodded amiably as the door stuttered closed in front of them. "Yeah, you'd think a company on the razor's edge of technology would power their elevator system with something more advanced than a gerbil on an exercise wheel."

She laughed at that, a soft, silvery sound that sent a pleasant shiver up Alan's spine. "Parking, or street?" he asked, his hand hovering over the panel of buttons.

"Street. I'm busing it this week. Car's in the shop."

It was on the tip of Alan's tongue to offer her a ride, but given the tenor of their previous encounter, he had no expectation that the suggestion would be welcome. Even if she did seem markedly friendlier at the moment.

So instead they stood in awkward silence until the car reached street level and the door slid open again. Lora started to step out, then hesitated. "Alan," she began, almost timidly, "I've been thinking about what you said — about the potential threats to the network."

"Uh huh?" he answered, not sure where this was going.

The door started to close, and Lora leaned against it. "I think – I was wondering if we could discuss that further sometime."

Alan was sure his delighted astonishment was written all over his face, but he decided to play it cool. "Ah … yeah. Sure. Be glad to. Any time." Way to dazzle her with your eloquence, Bradley, he thought, giving himself an invisible kick.

"Great!" Lora glanced down at her watch. "Do you have time to go for coffee now?"

Alan didn't try to stop a grin from spreading over his face. "I think I can work it into my schedule."

Coffee turned into burgers at a nearby Denny's when they compared notes and discovered neither had eaten since that morning. Lora had brought an orange for lunch, but sacrificed it on the altar of science – a test of the digitization apparatus that left the fruit wrinkled, smoldering and possibly a bit radioactive.

"It was disappointing," Lora shrugged as they slid into opposite sides of a vinyl-covered booth. "I guess it's just as well we didn't go with my first choice of experimental subject, Fred Fielder from Accounts Payable."

Alan guffawed. Fielder was notorious as the little tin god of the Accounting Department, forcing employees through endless administrative hoops for a lousy parking voucher. Alan and Lora engaged in small talk as they perused the menus. After the waitress took their orders, Lora leaned across the table and lowered her voice.

"Alan, you said Tron could defend against attacks from outside ENCOM," she said seriously.

He nodded.

"Well … what about threats from _inside_?"

Alan's response was a slight widening of his eyes.

Lora took a sip of her iced tea and continued. "You know that chess program we were discussing the other day?"

"Yep. Dillinger's proudest achievement." Alan's disdain was evident.

She smirked back at him. "Yeah, well, Dillinger's little toy has been getting grabby. Taking control of programs all over the network."

"So I've noticed," Alan nodded. "And you think your program is next."

"Dillinger as much as said so! He was down in the lab yesterday harassing Walter. I heard him say that all of ENCOM's proprietary software would eventually reside in MCP's subnet." She snorted. "Some claptrap about eliminating 'incompatability issues' on the network."

"Ha! Meaning that allowing us programmers to do our jobs in peace is incompatible with his need to micromanage the whole damned company." He paused when the waitress appeared with their plates, waited until she was out of earshot. "It's getting so we have to bow and scrape to Dillinger for permission to order a spare circuit board." He shook his head in disgust. "They've been tightening the reins every since that hotshot Flynn-"

Alan clamped his mouth shut and felt his face flush with embarrassment. Across from him, Lora lowered her eyes and began studying the pattern on the paper placement.

"I'm sorry, Lora. I didn't mean …"

Her slim shoulders shrugged slightly. "It's okay," she said, lifting her face to meet his gaze. "Flynn is a maverick. Brilliant, but not really cut out for corporate culture." She smiled a little sadly. "I'm not denying that the current administrative crackdown might have something to do with Flynn's … unorthodox work habits. What I want to know is how I can keep Dillinger from co-opting my project."

Alan could see her getting worked up. Part of it might have had to do with Flynn, but he suspected she was most distressed about the possibility of losing control of an effort she'd put countless hours into. It seemed to Alan that creating a new program was in some ways like giving birth. And any parent would do whatever it took to protect their "baby."

Looking into her beautiful face, her expression set with grim determination to protect what was hers, Alan felt a steely resolve form inside him. He reached across and covered her small hand with his own. "Don't worry, Lora. Nothing is going to get to Yori."

"How do you know?" He saw the flicker of hope in her eyes.

"Because Tron is protecting it."


	6. Initial Interface-Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Yori stood at the small window and observed Tron standing watch beneath her. While the Digitization Module had previously been just one frequent stop on Tron's seemingly ceaseless round of security patrols, recently he was an almost constant fixture. Yori sensed a growing restlessness in the Security Program – a subtle thrum of nervous energy and laser-sharp readiness that both comforted and disconcerted her. She watched him pace the verge of the module's Grid; that was new, too. Finally, the tension was too much. Yori poured a tube of fluid energy and went out to speak with Tron.

He was aware of her approach, of course. Nothing escaped Tron's heightened senses. Still, he didn't turn from his duty as she stood beside him.

"There's something coming, isn't there?" Yori said quietly.

His gaze flickered briefly to her, then away. "I think so. Alan-One told me to be ready."

Yori held out the beverage she'd brought. "If that's true, you'll need to keep your strength up."

He looked down at her again, his gaze lingering on her delicate features as he reached for the tube, lifted it to his mouth and emptied it in a single swallow. Lora saw his circuits pulse just a bit brighter and a slight smile lighten his handsome face. "Thank you," he said. She was surprised by the warmth in his eyes.

"I'm afraid the Digitization Module is getting more than our fair share of your protection – not that we don't appreciate it," Yori said.

"My User wants me to be here." Abruptly he broke eye contact and looked again toward the endless space beyond them. Then, almost too softly for her to hear, he added, "I want to be here." 

* * *

Alan tossed his glasses onto his desk, squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Behind his lids, phantom lines of code swarmed and twisted – 11 hours of squinting at little white letters on a black screen would do that to a person. Alan felt a tide of desperation rising from his gut to his throat. He'd devoted every spare minute the past two weeks to punching up Tron's code, devising ever more complex algorithms and subroutines, weaving a tauter net of programming that would permit no bit of random code or malicious software to get through the security program's defenses.

He'd pushed himself to the limit of his abilities, and now all that was left was to integrate the new code and recompile Tron. He'd promised Lora that he'd protect her program, and come hell or high water, he'd do everything in his power to keep that promise. Even if … Well, he just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

At the end of a seemingly endless cycle, Yori was glad to step through the Digitization Module's portal. Tron, of course, was at his accustomed post – but when he heard the shimmer of the portal, he turned abruptly and came toward her, his long legs covering the distance between them in an instant. Yori saw at once that he was agitated, and it scared her; she'd come to rely on his steady, measured demeanor, even as the tension increased on the Grid.

"What is it?" she asked as he approached.

"Alan-One has some new weaponry for me."

Yori smiled, glad to hear that her protector would be even stronger. "That's good, right?"

He nodded. "It's just – it means I'll be offline for a while." His mouth curved into a frown.

Yori took a deep breath. "Well, I guess that can't be helped. I'm sure it will be all right."

Tron looked down on her, a crinkle of worry forming around his eyes. "Yes. It is necessary. And Alan-One will do it quickly. It's just … " he trailed off.

"Yes?"

He hesitated, and she could feel a tremor of turbulence run through his circuitry. Then his expression resolved into stolid acceptance. "I trust my User."

"And I trust you." Yori was surprised by her own admission. She locked eyes with him for a long moment. Then abruptly his head snapped up, his eyes finding the narrow beam of the In/Out Tower in the distance.

"Alan-One is calling." He tore his gaze from the tower and back to her. "I'll be back as soon as I can." Then he placed a large, gloved hand gently on her shoulder. Yori felt a warm, lavender energy blossom under his palm and diffuse through her torso, reaching her central core.

"Be careful while I'm gone," Tron said softly. Then he stepped back, withdrew his energy rod from his belt, rezzed his light cycle and sped off. Yori suddenly felt the Grid become vaster. Emptier.


	7. Initial Interface-Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Alan waited until well after the workday officially ended, until all the cubicles around him had emptied and the usual hum of activity had faded to silence. He knew Lora was working late tonight, too; they'd made plans to catch a 9:00 movie. That was assuming everything went as planned. He tapped briefly on his keyboard, calling up Tron, and watched code begin scrolling down the screen in fits and starts. Alan frowned. His program seemed a little … sluggish? No, that wasn't it. Hesitant. The programmer smiled to himself; Lora teased him about his tendency to anthropomorphize his program. He couldn't help it. He felt close to Tron, almost paternal. It would be very, very hard on Alan if worst came to worst …

TRON, ARE YOU FUNCTIONING PROPERLY?

YES.

I AM GOING TO INSTALL SOME NEW CODE. IT WILL MAKE YOU FASTER. STRONGER.

I AM READY, ALAN-ONE.

Alan's fingers hesitated over the keys. This next bit was hard.

TRON, YOU KNOW YOUR PRIMARY PURPOSE.

TO DEFEND THE GRID. TO PROTECT YORI.

YOU MUST PROTECT YORI, TRON.

YES.

IF YORI IS THREATENED, USE ALL YOUR WEAPONRY.

YES.

I HAVE CREATED SOME SPECIAL CODING, TRON, TO HELP YOU PROTECT YORI.

I AM READY.

USE THIS CODE ONLY IF THERE IS NO OTHER WAY TO PROTECT YORI.

I UNDERSTAND.

I'M GOING TO INSTALL THE CODE NOW, TRON. THEN RECOMPILE YOUR PROGRAMMING.

I AM READY, ALAN-ONE.

Be strong, Tron, Alan thought as his fingers began to fly over the keyboard.

* * *

Yori stood at the edge of the Digitization Module's gridspace, tapping her toes impatiently. The transport was late again. She rolled her eyes. This was the most advanced sector on the Grid; you'd think the transport system would be a little less consistently glitchy. She toyed with the idea of walking back to her quarters, but knew Tron wouldn't approve. She wondered how his upgrade was coming along, and felt a little knot of anxiety in her core.

Most recompiles went smoothly. But occasionally, Programs came back from the In/Out Tower … wrong. Yori remembered a Simulation Program in her team who turned up stark raving mad. Lora had tried to stabilize her, but the young Program had derezzed herself before she could be debugged. Yori shuddered at the memory of the Program's wild, desperate eyes in the instant before she dissolved in a sparkling cloud of random bits.

Yori wished again that she had the blind faith in the Users that Tron did. It's just that sometimes … well, Yori couldn't help wondering if the Users really considered how their actions affected their creation. Or even – though she would never say this to Tron – whether the Users even knew they existed. As she pondered these blasphemies, Yori was distracted by something at the edge of her peripheral vision. She turned her head to see a section of the grid bulging and rippling and a diffuse glow spreading over the surface. The movement was accompanied by a high-pitched hum. Puzzled, she stepped closer.

Suddenly the surface of the Grid erupted, spewing forth a seething, roiling mass of – well, Yori didn't know what it was. She jerked back, but the mass flowed like fluid energy over the top of Yori's boot. She realized it wasn't a fluid when it began swarming up her leg. With a little cry, she began brushing at her leg, trying to brush it off. It enveloped her hand. She raised it before her face and saw that what she thought was a single entity was actually comprised of innumerable, four-legged scuttling creatures. At that same moment, Yori felt the pain.


	8. Initial Interface-Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Alan drummed his fingers impatiently on his desktop as he waited for Tron to complete compiling. When that was finished, he'd run a quick scan for glitches, then-

The phone rang. Alan snatched it up, knowing only one person knew he was here. "Lora?"

"Alan!" Her voice sounded desperate. "Something is wrong! I think Yori is being hacked!"

* * *

There were so many of them. And each was equipped with a pointed, pincer-like appendage on its underside. They undulated as they scrambled over Yori, using the pincer to pierce her uniform and deliver a sharp, painful sting to the delicate circuitry underneath. Individually, the stings would be tolerable – but hundreds, thousands at a time made Yori writhe and scream in pain. She felt like all her circuits were frying as she frantically batted at them. Dozens of them derezzed under a single swat of her palm, but they were seemingly replaced by hundreds more. They were on her face now, clawing under her helmet, seeking access to her mouth, her nose, her eyes. Yori felt her legs growing weak and she sank to the Grid, curling into a ball, trying desperately not to lose consciousness. Another minute and she knew she would derez.

* * *

"Shit!" Alan's fingers flew over his keyboard, hoping to abort the compile and restore Tron to his previous version. Too late. Seconds that felt like hours passed, until at last the recompile completed. No time to run a test scan. Alan rebooted his program and pushed him back into the network. He hoped to God they weren't going to lose both Yori and Tron.

* * *

The Grid was getting darker. At least that's how it seemed to Yori, barely clinging to existence as the gridbugs continued swarming over her twitching form. Would she become one with her User when she derezzed, Yori wondered dully, or merely wink into non-existence? Strangely, she thought she could feel her User's presence, stronger than she ever had before. Was she urging her to resist … or release?

* * *

"Come on. Come on!" Alan muttered, staring at the strings of code rolling over his screen. Whatever this was, he wanted Tron to kick its ass.

* * *

Yori felt a sort of tingling coursing through her body. Was this what derezzing felt like? It wasn't so bad. She could just relax and let go, become a shower of stars like the young Program she'd tried so hard to save …

"Yori! Don't move!

Tron's voice. At least Yori thought that was Tron; her hearing seemed impaired. But abruptly she felt a scrabbling tide roll over her and an instant later she was … free. Yori raised her head to see the swarm of gridbugs moving at lightning speed toward Tron.

"Run, Tron!" she managed to gasp. But he stood stock still, as firm and unyielding as he had when defending her before. The swarm reached him, flowed up his form, enveloped him. Yori thought she detected a slight twitch as they began to pierce him, feed on the energy flowing through his circuitry, draining him as they had her.

Yori pulled herself to her feet and staggered toward Tron. Only then did he react.

"No! Stay back, Yori!"

She was horrified to see the gridbugs flow into his open mouth as he spoke. He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head madly. She wasn't sure if he were trying to shake the gridbugs off or warn her away. It didn't matter. She had to help him.

"NO!" He shouted at her as she lurched closer. "Stay absolutely still, Yori," he gasped, heedless of the creatures clambering over his lips, down his throat. "They're attracted to movement."

Yori stopped, faced him over a distance that seemed an infinity. She could barely discern the handsome Program beneath the boiling mass of gridbugs. "What can I do?" she sobbed. "How can I help you?"

"You can't." His voice was strained. Weak. "Yori, I know what to do. Alan-One prepared me. You need to stay away from me. I'm going to …"

"What? What are you going to do?" Yori demanded.

Yori could just make out his eyes, glittering amid the mass of gridbugs that covered his face. "I'm going to initiate a power surge," his muffled voice explained.

"Are you crazy? You'll derez!"

His head nodded slightly. "And I'll take these things with me. You'll be safe."

"No!" Her voice was anguished. Unbelievably, considering how he'd been drained, Yori saw Tron's circuitry begin to glow more brightly underneath the swarm. It was changing color, from its usual cool blue to a bright, then blinding, white. She was watching him die. For her.

* * *

"Damn, damn, damn, damn!" Alan could see how the battle was going. Tron was losing. He would have to trigger the code that would blow apart his program and whatever was attacking it in one fell swoop. He was going to lose Tron.

* * *

There had to be a way out of this. Yori's keen mind whirled as she brought all her cognitive resources to bear on this problem. She had to shield her eyes from her protector, whose brilliant glow hurt her eyes. She was going to lose Tron.

Suddenly she knew what she had to do.

Yori reached up and dragged her helmet from her head, even as she scrambled toward the jagged hole the gridbugs had created in the Grid when they erupted from it. She looked down into the infinite blackness below. Then she began waving her arms wildly.

"Hey! Hey, you miserable little null units! Over here!"

There was a pause in the hum of the creatures, as if they were considering their options. Then, as one body they flowed down Tron's body - and headed back toward Yori. She saw Tron stagger, the white-hot glow surrounding him fluctuating as he fumbled to complete the programming before the gridbugs were out of reach. Too late. They were almost upon Yori, who stood absolutely still next to the Gridhole, except for the arm she waved over her head. Her helmet was in that hand. In the microcycle before the bugs reached her, Yori flung her helmet into the Gridhole. The bugs followed it, streaming through the gap and tumbling into the void, derezzing like millions of twinkling lights as they fell. And then they were gone.

Tron sprang forward, his glow continuing to fade as he crossed the distance between himself and Yori. Before she could react, she was in his arms. His body still felt warm from the near-fatal surge. Without even realizing it, Yori relaxed against him, feeling one of his arms curl around her waist, the other moving to gently stroke the golden mane of hair that tumbled over her shoulders in the absence of her helmet.

"Yori." His voice was as soft, as warm, as his touch.

She lay her cheek against his chest, drawing comfort from the thrum of energy coursing beneath his surface. "Tron," she sighed.

* * *

"What the hell just happened?" Alan ran a hand raggedly over his head as he stared at the screen in disbelief. The phone rang, and he fumbled for the receiver as he continued to squint at the unexplainable code before him.

"You did it!" Lora's voice was jubilant. "You're a genius, Alan!"

The programmer felt a warm glow spread through his chest. "I wish I could take the credit," he admitted. "As far as I can tell, all Tron did was slow it down. Then whatever it was just went … poof."

Her laugh was like music in his ear. "Poof. Is that a technical term, Mr. Bradley?"

"It may become one, if things like this keep happening," he responded wryly.

"Well, all I know is that Yori was fragmenting, and now she's stable again."

"She?" Alan couldn't help letting his grin show in his voice.

"Yeah, all right. What can I say? You're a bad influence on me." He knew she was smiling, too.

END


End file.
